“Kakistocracy” is trending again.
The obscure term, coined as early as the 17th century and defined by Merriam-Webster as “government by the worst people,” has surged on Google Trends since the election.
What does government by the worst look like? To the cynical, that question may call to mind Dorothy Parker’s famous response to the news that former President Calvin Coolidge had died: “How could they tell?”
Of late, the words “kakistocracy” and “kakistocrat” have started popping up again, a return of a trend from President Donald Trump’s first administration.
My guess is that the new currency of the term has much to do with Trump’s first wave of cabinet nominees for his second administration.
For example, many were incredulous when Trump named now-retired Rep. Matt Gaetz, the Florida Republican, to be attorney general, the nation’s top law enforcement officer. Gaetz subsequently withdrew his nomination amid discussion over whether the House Ethics Committee should make public the findings of its investigation of his alleged sexual misconduct and illicit drug use.
Hours after Gaetz withdrew, Trump named Pam Bondi, Florida’s former attorney general, to replace Gaetz, much to the relief of Senate Republicans, who were less than enthusiastic about having to vote to confirm a man accused (although Gaetz denies the claims) of having a sexual relationship with a 17-year-old girl.
Gaetz was by no means the only Trump nominee who has generated controversy.
Among others, all eyes turned to take a closer look at Pete Hegseth, the former Fox News host Trump proposed to be secretary of defense. Hegseth, a veteran of wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, has been accused of sexually assaulting a woman at a political conference in California. He also lacks experience at leading an organization anywhere near as huge and complex as the Defense Department.
Then there is Robert F. Kennedy Jr., whom Trump has picked to head the Department of Health and Human Services. Kennedy is long known for his conspiracy theories about vaccines, COVID-19 and AIDS — and, according to the Washington Post, he has big proposals in mind to change the way Medicare pays physicians.
Trump also tapped television personality Dr. Mehmet Oz (“Dr. Oz" of TV fame) to head the Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services. Not surprisingly, Oz’ nomination caused consternation among some members of Congress. Critics fear he will expand the privatization of the Medicare system, and he has appeared in advertisements for Medicare Advantage providers in the private sector. Senators are well aware of how politically sensitive any changes in Medicare policy would be. In Capitol Hill wisdom, it’s a “third rail” issue — "Touch it and you die.”
Why would the incoming president invite controversy by fiddling with popular healthcare programs? Hardly any one would accuse Trump of humility in confronting big issues, whether he shows much knowledge of what he can do.
I am reminded of his lavish promises in his first presidential administration to repeal and replace the Affordable Care Act, better known as Obamacare, until the program turned out to be a lot more popular than he had figured. Now he promises to improve the program, although he prudently avoids getting into specifics on how he plans to do that.
Shortly before the 2024 election, Trump transition co-chairman Howard Lutnick, now tapped to be secretary of commerce, took the time to promise that Kennedy would not be put in charge of HHS. The news came as a big relief to many, while we also wait to see what other duties Trump might find for him.
I recall a similar cloak of secrecy and uncertainty that surrounded the beginning of Trump’s first term.
Speculation abounds in Washington and Silicon Valley regarding another newcomer Trump has invited into the Washington scene: the colorful Elon Musk, richest man in human history.
With roughly 200 million followers on X, the social network formerly known as Twitter, Musk is a Digital Age media baron to reckon with. He’s also a major player in the space exploration and satellite communications business sectors, with sizable and highly important contracts with the U.S. government. And he’s the owner of a major car company (and the only one outside China that has figured out how to make a profit on electric vehicles).
In other words, Musk is setting off warning bells for those who worry about cronyism in government. Especially since Trump took up Musk’s idea for a yet to be formed Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), to be charged with cutting government waste.
A lot of Americans like the sound of cutting waste in Washington, but politically it’s tricky to carry off successfully. And if, as Trump has suggested, DOGE will be run by Musk and GOP presidential candidate Vivek Ramaswamy, good-government advocates had better strap in for the next four years. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.
Page is an American journalist, syndicated columnist and senior member of the Chicago Tribune editorial board.
©2024 Tribune Content Agency. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.
A golden tray sits on the Resolute Desk as President Donald Trump speaks during an announcement on American nuclear innovation in the Oval Office at the White House on July 24, 2026, in Washington, D.C. Trump is signing multiple executive orders targeting the nuclear energy sector and easing rules for new reactors and nuclear fuel supply chains.
Trump’s hubris rivals the fallen heroes of ancient Greek mythology
In January, the New York Times asked President Donald Trump if there were any limits on his global powers.
“Yeah,” the president responded, “there is one thing. My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”
That was eight months ago, but fortunately Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster adaptation of “The Odyssey” has made ancient Greek literature newly relevant. Before that window closes, I’d like to talk about hubris.
Today, the term mostly means excessive pride or arrogance. That’s part of what the Greeks meant by it too, but the meaning was a bit richer and more specific. Hubris was an insolent or outrageous act that offended the gods, often because the transgressor was claiming abilities or authorities that solely belonged to supreme beings.
Nolan renamed and slightly modified the concept of xenia for the film, calling it “Zeus’ law.” In the director’s telling, mortals should follow the rules laid out by the gods, specifically the requirement to treat strangers with respect lest they be gods in disguise.
In a sense, hubris is the opposite, or at least the rejection, of xenia. The hubris of the suitors, and at times Odysseus himself, invites punishment by the gods and their mortal instruments.
Which brings me back to Donald Trump. His claim that there are no constraints on his personal power to dictate events on the global stage was one of the greatest expressions of hubris ever uttered by a political leader.
Trump’s claim was obviously false when he made it.
He vowed that he could end the Russia-Ukraine war in 24 hours. He’s proved powerless to make that happen. If he had divine powers to work his will, why would he have balked at implementing his tariffs so often that Wall Street adopted the “TACO trade” term for his deals? “TACO” stands for “Trump always chickens out.”
And why would Trump have made so many embarrassing concessions to China — from rescinding tariffs on Chinese goods to allowing them to buy crucial and incredibly valuable computer chips?
But Trump saw his success at capturing Venezuelan strongman Nicolas Maduro as proof of his ability to launch missiles to the same effect as Zeus’ lightning bolts. Trump believed he was the most powerful man who ever lived.
This is no exaggeration. In March, when the Iran invasion seemed successful, Trump gave a document penned by“Presidential Historian David King” to New York Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan purporting to prove that Trump was “the most powerful person to have EVER walked this planet.” King was, in fact, a businessman and occasional caddy for legendary golfer Gary Player.
King compared Trump favorably to many of history’s most powerful, and often heinous, figures: Alexander the Great, Attila the Hun, William the Conqueror, Napoleon Bonaparte, Joseph Stalin, Genghis Khan, Mao Tse Tung, Adolf Hitler and Vladimir Lenin. Many of these men thought they were the most powerful person in the world, too. And many were defeated precisely because they believed it.
At least Napoleon and Hitler had a string of truly impressive victories before they learned the folly of hubris. The limits on Trump’s power have been exposed by far less august forces than the combined might of the allies in World War II or the fearsome Russian winter.
Iran is a comparatively middling power. But the regime’s ability to absorb punishment while imposing its will on the Strait of Hormuz has proved to be a greater constraint on Trump’s power than his morality or mind. We should note that, at least rhetorically, his morality has not proved much of a constraint. He has repeatedly promised to destroy Iranian “civilization” if the regime refuses to capitulate.
But they haven’t — and won’t anytime soon — because the regime’s tolerance for pain far outstrips Trump’s. The combined fear of skyrocketing oil prices, outrage of Gulf state potentates, diminishing weapon supplies and domestic unpopularity is doing the work that international law, congressional oversight and the collective opinion of foreign policy experts can’t or won’t do.
If I considered Trump more heroic than reason and facts could allow, I would say his Sisyphean predicament has the whiff of Greek tragedy to it. Trump is vexed by the fact that the Iranians won’t honor deals or ratify his countless premature claims of victory — giving new meaning to his vow that his presidency would make people tired of winning. It’s almost like they’re out-Trumping Trump.
Things might have gone better if he’d heeded that great Greek tragedian Sophocles: “For Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue.”
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Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.